Roslyn
by mecherry
Summary: Anabelle Mouri has come to England, but from where, and why exactly? Her only concern is the safety of her sister; the only thing she's ever loved. But she has become part of events bigger than she can possibly imagine, and this is only the beginning. Year One. Eventual Pairing will not be revealed.
1. Private School, Far Away

Chapter One

Private School, Far Away

* * *

_I am no bird; and no net ensnares me.  
-Jane Eyre_

* * *

_"You're not even from here!" she heard a voice taunt from behind her._

_"So weird," another one says. "And what is that on your wrist?"_

_"Freak!"_

_A ring of laughter runs around the little circle. "Yeah, freak!"_

_"You don't even have real parents!"_

_The laughter continued; she felt a tear sliding down her cheek and hated herself for it because she knew it was only fueling the fire of the bullies. This particular group of kids picked on nearly everyone. But she was certainly a favorite target, and she could never quite figure out why._

_She started to walk away, but one of the boys in the group ripped her book out of her hands. "What's this you're reading?" he asked sardonically, and everyone in the group giggled._

_Before she could answer, a voice sounded across the courtyard. "Probably best you all leave her alone."_

_Everyone whipped around, including her, to see another boy standing across the playground, leaning against a tree and casually eating an apple. It was apparent he was at least three years older than the rest of them._

_The two leaders of the bully group faltered for a second and then grinned again, but she could see that their confidence was a little shaken by the appearance of this twelve year old._

_"Or else what?" one of them said._

_"Or else," the boy answers coolly, "I will come over there and beat all of your faces in." He took another bite of his apple and observed the effect his words had on the rest of the group._

_Even though they outnumbered him, the other children were intimidated; she could see it in their faces. This boy seemed to mean business. One of the leaders glanced her way with disgust. "Here." He threw the book her direction, where it landed in the dirt. She quickly picked it up and brushed it off._

_"See you around, Anabelle." His words were filled with venom, and they told her that he would bother her again the next chance he got. The group followed their ringleader away from the playground._

_The other boy still hadn't moved from the tree. Shakily, she walked over to him._

_"Thanks," she said quietly, gesturing behind her. "For, you know…"_

_"Don't worry about it, Freckles." He took another bite of his apple as he observed her. His hair was a dirty blond color; it hung almost to his shoulders. His eyes were dark blue and his face was angular for his age. No wonder the entire group had been afraid of him. Even if he hadn't been older than them, they probably wouldn't have been afraid. He just looked tough._

_She didn't know what bravery compelled her to question him. "What's your name?"_

_He stared at her for a second before slowly grinning. "I'm Tom." His smile faded; he was looking at her more carefully now, scrutinizing her. "You go to that other school, don't you? That private school for the rich kids?"_

_It was true, yes; or at least for the Muggles, that was true. In reality, it wasn't only the rich kids at all. But since it was a pre-Wizarding school, the Muggles had to have some explanation. Being how they are – the way they close their minds because it's like they almost don't **want** to see magic – they all came up with the private school solution almost completely on their own._

_"That's right," she answered him._

_"Huh," was all he said. He took one last bite of his apple. "Well, you seem okay."_

_And he had already turned around, thrown his apple on the ground, and strolled away._

XXX

She woke with a start.

Not the ideal dream to be having the morning she would be starting school. And she already realized what it meant. She was more afraid than she had been letting herself think. All summer, after she had gotten her letter, she had told herself that she was excited. As they had gone shopping in Diagon Alley, she told herself that she was excited.

She had bought a cauldron, schoolbooks, a wand, and even an owl; and all through that, she told herself that she was excited.

But there was the deep, nagging fear of not fitting in, helped by her childhood experiences. And unfortunately, she hadn't let the fear hit her until now, so this morning she would have to hold back from a full-scale panic attack.

There would be no use confiding in her parents – or foster parents, the more correct term. The Fawleys would tell her that she should expect Muggles to act that way. And that Muggles in general, especially the children, were nasty creatures anyway, so why was she bothered? And then the conversation would turn to how they took her in and rescued her from her home country, and there was no need to be ashamed anymore. They would make sure that she feels and acts proud, because now she was living with a Pureblood, respected, and prestigious Wizarding family. Nothing in the conversation would be about her fears at all, and the talk of them rescuing her would just make her angry.

She told herself that a lot depended on this day and that she could not be nervous or distracted today. She had to be focused. But first she needed to get out.

Slipping out of bed, still in a T-shirt and pajama pants, she slipped on her tennis shoes, being very careful not to let the floor creak and let them know she was awake. Tiptoeing over to the window, she threw it open and observed the ground below, and the piece of roof jutting out from her window.

It was quite a drop, but she had done this so many times she could almost do it with her eyes closed. She tentatively put her foot out the window and onto the roof, still keeping very quiet, and hoisted herself out. She ran as quickly and silently as possible to the front of the house, where a large Weeping Willow tree stood tall.

She took a running leap for the same branch as always, swung once, and launched to the next one. Her faux mother would have a heart attack if she saw her. She had seen her once before, but now she would never again make the mistake of doing it when she would notice. She stretched her legs as far as possible to the branch below her.

Taking a deep breath, she released her arms and hugged the trunk, so she was now standing on the branch.

She released a relieved breath. The rest was just climbing down, the easy part.

As soon as she hit the ground with a soft, Thump! a shrill voice sounded. "Mistress Belle! What is you thinking?!" She turned with a sigh to face the family house elf Mitzi, whose face held an expression of horror. Her clothes consisted of a faded pink pillow case. "Mitzi is hearing something across the roof and was thinking it was you! Why?" she moaned out sadly, shaking her head so that her ears flapped and covering her eyes.

Anabelle laughed. "Mitzi I'm okay, see? No one else is awake, right?" she asked anxiously.

"Not yet, Mistress Belle. Is you going into the woods?"

Mitzi knew of her semi-regular early morning trips into the woods surrounding the mansion, but Anabelle had told her nothing else about them, still too distrusting of her foster family in general. And she didn't wish to order Mitzi to keep her secret for her, so she simply left the house elf in the dark.

"Yes, Mitzi. But I'll be pretty quick." She was already turned and hurrying away.

"Mistress Belle starts Hogwarts today!" Mitzi called after her. "So please be careful!"

She grinned at Mitzi over her shoulder as she started to jog. "I promise!" She left the little house elf staring desolately at her as she disappeared into the woods. She felt bad for worrying Mitzi; she was the only member of her newer family that she actually liked.

It didn't take her long to reach the familiar spot, and he was already there, looking exactly the same and yet exactly different as he did the day two years ago that he had defended her on the playground. He was fourteen already; and yet he still put up with her quite often, being that she was only eleven.

"Hey Tom," she said, settling in to sit on the ground. There was a tiny creek here where they often met, away from the prying eyes of the Fawleys. She was afraid to have them find out that she was friends with a Muggle. She had a feeling that getting in trouble with this family would mean something more than grounding.

"Heya Freckles," he replied casually, using the very first nickname he had ever called her. He had later told her that he had helped her that day because he had moved here to England when he had been her age, also as a foster child, and he had heard about her. He said he remembered what it was like being the new kid from somewhere else and moving into a new family. He told her that he had seen a lot of himself in her. Tom had originally come from the southern United States, something very apparent from the twang in his English and his sassy attitude.

And yet, from all Tom had told her, she still had no idea what happened to his parents and he had no idea about hers. Neither of them asked, close as they were. It was like an unspoken agreement. She had a feeling that she didn't want to know some of his story anyway – things such as violence were very different where he was from. And yet, he also didn't know exactly where she was from – even that was a lie.

And of course there were certain things she couldn't explain to Tom that frustrated him – why couldn't he just come to her house? Why meet in secret in the woods?

To which of course she had no answer for him. Revealing that she was a witch and he was a Muggle was much too dangerous, even to someone she trusted as much as Tom. Especially considering the Fawleys attitude towards Muggles. And after her two years here, she wasn't exactly fond of Muggle children either.

But Tom was her exception.

"I have something to tell you," she began.

"Lemme guess," he cut in. "You're going away?"

Her dark brown eyes met his light blue ones, and they stared at each other for a moment. "Yes." She didn't ask him how he knew. "I'm going to another private school now. A different one, far away."

He chuckled a little.

"What is it?" she asked, frowning.

"I knew being friends with you would be lots of secrets," he said. "Don't know how, but I knew it somehow. Something's different about you. I just learned to stop asking questions after a while."

"I'm sorry," she whispered. She tried to figure out if "different" was insulting, then decided he was probably right either way.

"Nah, no need. So when will you be home for a visit?"

"Next summer for sure. But maybe over Christmas."

The silence settled around them and he sighed a little. "Well I'll miss you while you're gone, Freckles. But the creek here ain't going anywhere and neither am I."

"I can still write you!" she remembered excitedly, and then her smile faded. "Erm…as long as you promise not to mention exactly how the post is delivered."

He started laughing again. "You have my word."

Sometimes she wondered if he thought she was mentally ill and he was just doing her a favor by giving her a friend or if he really was this relaxed about everything.

She remembered when he had asked her many questions. She hadn't really noticed that it had almost completely ceased. He used to get frustrated, angry even, that she wouldn't and couldn't answer. They had fights about it.

They spent about half an hour there by their creek that day, and it was like any other half hour they spent there. They talked about anything and everything else, droll and unimportant things and yet, it still felt important. And by the time she said goodbye to him and left, even though she wouldn't see him for nearly a year, she felt significantly calmer than when she had woke up.

She wandered back to the house around eight in the morning, using the back door in the kitchen to first go up to her room and put her slippers back on.

When she had successfully done that, she went downstairs normally as if she had just woken up.

Upon opening the door to the kitchen she saw that breakfast was already ready; Mitzi was waltzing around the table serving sausages, eggs, toast, and blueberry muffins. An array of juices and also milk were on the table. The Fawleys were already eating.

"Good morning," said Kiara Fawley. Her tone wasn't cold, but it was never warm either. "Breakfast? It's a big day." She had blond hair and light skin, but her eyes were a deep brown. Her features were soft and her face was round, the complete contrast of her sharp-featured, dark-haired, and light-eyed husband, Stephan.

"Yes, please," she answered, sitting in her chair, taking two blueberry muffins, and starting to nibble on them.

"Don't forget, Belle," Stephen began. "The Malfoys are encouraging young Draco to do the same thing as you today – first, above all things, try and befriend him."

She was tired of them both repeating themselves but she didn't show that in her face. By now, careful masking of her features was key, and she had very nearly mastered it. "Of course," she answered obediently.

"Good," he said happily. "And should you succeed, stay on his good side, no matter what it takes."

_In other words, lie your pants off_, she thought to herself.

"I'll do everything I can," she promised.

"Excellent." She had pleased Kiara as well, she could tell by the way she was smiling. "So, eat up! We'll be leaving for Kings Cross in the next two hours."


	2. Lotus Flower

Chapter Two

Lotus Flower

* * *

_Art is what you can get away with.  
_-Warhol

* * *

The journey to King's Cross was mostly quiet, aside from the complaints from the Fawleys at having to use Muggle transportation in the form of a taxi. It was quite a long drive, but money was no issue for them.

When the taxi driver wasn't looking, Stephen waved his wand and expanded the trunk of the car so that Anabelle's gigantic school trunk would fit. Stephen then settled in the front, and Anabelle and Kiara slipped into the backseat, Anabelle clutching her owl, which was surprisingly quiet considering all the movement and commotion.

She saw Mitzi give her a small wave and sad smile from the window. She waved back.

She really would miss Mitzi. She and Tom were the only ones that truly looked out for her.

The taxi driver threw her a look at her strange choice of pets as he started the car. She had to admit that he had a point; it wasn't common to use owls where she was from either. But she quite liked hers, and she thought that he liked her too. He was black and magnificent looking, and took to preening himself a lot. So she named him Raja.

The Fawleys lived outside of the city, so the traffic on the way to Kings Cross was certainly not fun. Kiara kept throwing dark glares at the taxi driver as if he could do something about it.

It was a sunny day, with only a few fluffy white clouds in the sky when they finally arrived. The temperature was nice enough for the first of September in England, and Anabelle wondered how it would be at Hogwarts. She hoped it wouldn't be much colder than London. Even in two years, she hadn't become adjusted to the England weather. She was always freezing. In fact, she was the only person she saw so far with a jacket on.

After grudgingly paying the taxi driver and not tipping him at all, Stephen lugged her trunk around as she and Kiara clambered out of the back seat. "This way," he ordered, taking a cart and pushing the trunk. The women both followed him.

He halted between platforms nine and ten. "Okay Belle," he started. "You need to run directly at that pillar." He pointed at the barrier between platforms nine and ten, and she stared at it, trying to see some sign that she could go through it without breaking any bones. "Or better yet," he said, "Come here."

She followed him until she was right next to it. "Just casually lean against it until you go through," he instructed. "Kiara and I will follow with your trunk and owl. It's easier this way."

"Okay," she said, a bit nervous but liking this idea much better than sprinting right at it.

He watched as she started to lean against the pillar with her shoulder. But she didn't feel anything against her shoulder. Startled, she blinked and stumbled a step. Upon opening her eyes, she saw that she was somewhere else entirely.

A scarlet steam engine sat at the platform, which had a sign: "Platform 9 ¾". She grinned and saw the sign that read Hogwarts Express, and got excited despite all she had to think about today. Even if it wasn't the ideal conditions, this was a new start for her.

Stephen and Kiara suddenly appeared next to her, trunk and owl in hand. "Let's get you on the train," said Stephen. They were ready to bustle her off, she could tell.

Everyone on the platform was busy. Whether it be with putting their trunks on the train, trying to track down an item they had already lost, being assaulted by their sobbing mothers…there was so much movement and commotion. She saw many students that were older than her, but a few that also looked her age. She had no idea how many people were in each year.

Thinking ahead, she scanned the immediate area but did not see who she wanted to see.

Stephen told them to wait, and he went in to put her trunk in a compartment. When he returned, he said, "Yours is the second from the left compartment right inside that door there. So, are you ready?"

"I think so," she said, her voice wavering a little as the nervousness filled her stomach.

"Don't forget," said Kiara. "Don't forget who you're looking for."

"I won't." As if she could when they had been drilling her with it for two years.

Kiara leaned forward and gave her an awkward, one-armed hug. For her, that was serious affection. "Write if you need anything, then," she said, stepping back and giving her a kind of half smile. Stephen nodded in agreement.

"Have a good term," he finished.

Anabelle waved awkwardly. "Bye then."

She clambered onto the train and into the compartment that Stephen told her, and she spotted her trunk in the overhead bin. The compartment was still empty – she was eternally grateful for that.

All she felt at parting with the Fawleys was pure relief.

She watched the aisle way carefully as students filed onto the train. Some were already in Hogwarts robes, and she noticed that the badges had different colors. She knew those were the four Houses, but she wasn't sure which colors belonged to which House. She glanced out the window, but she saw no sign of the Fawleys. She watched other parents saying goodbye to their children lovingly and sighed.

Her thoughts flew to her sister back home, whom she hadn't been able to contact since she left. All of this in England was for her, and she hoped she was all right.

Before tears could well up in her eyes, she heard the compartment door slide open and turned to look. Her heart shot up into her throat and she couldn't help but celebrate her good luck. She hadn't had to go looking for him at all.

Harry Potter had unknowingly come to her.

He looked a bit agitated, and his cheeks were flushed with the effort of apparently putting his trunk away. His bangs were pushed back from warmth, revealing his scar. He was so much smaller than she expected – after all the stories from the Fawleys she expected something about him to seem…special. But he looked just like an ordinary kid, and a very skinny one at that.

His glasses were taped together in the middle and his clothes were much too baggy. And behind his glasses were eyes of shining emerald green. They landed on her, and his eyebrows rose.

"Sorry, I thought this was empty," he muttered, rubbing the back of his head uncomfortably.

"No problem," she said, a little too quickly. "Here!" She pointed at the seat across from her.

He sat across from her, taking her in. She knew exactly what he wanted to ask, but it seemed he was too polite to do so, because he just said, "Thanks."

She racked her brains for something to say. This was her opportunity. She would befriend Harry Potter and the Fawleys would be happy and her sister would be all right and could stay home. Her nervousness spilled over and her mouth wouldn't open. It didn't matter – Harry seemed to be paying attention to something outside.

"Erm…I'm Anabelle," she offered.

His eyes moved back to hers, and she was again startled by how bright they were. "I'm Harry," he said, holding out his hand to shake.

"Harry Potter, then?" she filled in for him.

He gave the smallest of sighs, but she noticed. "That's me," he said, a little tonelessly. She decided to change the topic away from his fame, which apparently was not the thing to talk about at the moment.

"Very nice to meet you," she said lightly. "Your owl is beautiful." She pointed at the cage he had with him; inside was perched a snowy owl, asleep with her head under her wing. "What's her name?"

Harry's eyes lightened the slightest bit. "That's Hedwig," he answered. "And yours? He's cool looking too."

"Raja," she answered.

Harry nodded, and another silence settled into the compartment. Finally, he said, "I hope you don't mind me asking, but you aren't from England, are you? Your English is a bit…different."

It was true. She had only just started learning English about a year before she came to England; it took a while for her to even be able to speak fluently, but now it was no problem. Her obvious South Pacific accent, however, was not something that could be trained away, no matter how hard the Fawleys had tried.

She smiled widely at him. "I don't mind," she assured him. Before she could say anything else, the compartment door opened again, revealing a lanky, taller boy with red hair, freckles, and a long nose with a slight smudge of dirt on it, visible even from where she was sitting.

Harry seemed to recognize him, but Anabelle had no idea who he was.

"Do you mind?" the boy asked. "Everywhere else is full."

Harry glanced at her and she started to shake her head. "Not at all," Harry answered for both of them, gesturing to the seats. He seemed genuinely pleased to have them both there.

The boy came in and sat down, taking in both of them curiously. He didn't seem to have a problem with staring. "I'm Ron Weasley," he offered suddenly, holding out his hand for Anabelle to shake.

"Anabelle Mouri," she answered, shaking his hand.

"Harry Potter," said Harry, when Ron looked at him for his name.

"Really?" Ron's outburst seemed to embarrass him as soon as he had said it. "Sorry, it's just – Fred and George, my brothers – I think they helped you with your trunk…anyway, they're pretty big jokers, and I thought it was just a joke of theirs." Harry didn't seem to know what to say, but Ron continued. "Do you really have the…you know…"

For Harry's hair had fallen back over his scar. Harry smiled a little at Ron's inability to say it and pushed his hair back. "Wicked," Ron breathed.

"So, how much family do you both have, then?" Harry asked.

Anabelle felt a strange twinge on her heart, something like ice shards that went through it. She hoped that Ron would answer so that she wouldn't have to. "I've got five brothers and a sister," said Ron, looking very put out, though Anabelle couldn't imagine why. "Ginny is the youngest, she's one year below me. Fred and George and Percy all go to Hogwarts, and Bill and Charlie already finished school."

A light had appeared in Harry's eyes, for Anabelle had been observing him carefully. Anything that she found out about him that would help with being on his good side, the better. And she had a hunch already that Harry was so curious about anything to do with magic or family that it would be quite easy to captivate him in conversation, if you found those topics.

"_That's_ wicked," Harry told him. "What about you, Anabelle?"

He had turned to her. Her heart was racing. "Um...well...I-I just live with a foster family here in England."

Both were staring at her now, Ron with a somewhat confused and curious expression on his face. But Harry's eyes held a touch of understanding - and she remembered what the Fawleys had told her about Harry having no parents.

She didn't mention her sister. She didn't trust herself to hold up at the moment.

Neither of them seemed to want to ask anything else, probably because she had instantly, almost imperceptibly, closed herself off. The Fawleys used to tell her to stop doing it to them - they told her the phrase "cold" didn't need to be so literal.

Luckily, Ron stepped in to cover the heavy silence. "So, I heard you were raised by Muggles, then," he said to Harry, and Anabelle wanted to hug him. "How are they?"

"Horrible," Harry began, and Anabelle looked up, wondering if all the Muggle children had been as awful to him as they had to her. But then he finished his sentence. "Well, maybe not all of them. My aunt and uncle and cousin are, though."

"What do your brothers do, Ron?" Anabelle asked. She wondered what in the world wizards did for a living in these countries.

They both looked relieved that she had melted somewhat and spoken again. "Bill works with Gringotts, you know, the wizard's bank." She didn't know much, but she didn't tell him so. Ron continued, "He's a Curse Breaker. And Charlie works with dragons in Romania."

_An adventurous family_, thought Anabelle.

"So you're all wizards?" Harry asked, sounding a little awed.

"I think so," answered Ron. "There might be a second cousin somewhere that is an accountant, but we don't really talk to him."

"Wow," Harry breathed.

But Anabelle had suddenly just remembered something. Weasley. Of course! She had heard about them, because they were also a Pureblood family, like the Fawleys.

"But you're Pureblood," she burst out suddenly, then wished she could cover her mouth.

Ron looked surprised. "Yeah," he said, a little cautiously. "So? Are you?"

"Well yes," said Anabelle. "Almost everyone is."

"Everyone in your family?" Ron asked.

"No," she corrected. "I mean, everyone where I'm from."

"Anything from the trolley, dears?" A cart had arrived at their compartment, pushed by an old woman in dark purple robes. She smiled at them in a motherly way.

"I've got sandwiches," Ron mumbled, pulling out a bag. He glanced at them. "Ugh - she forgets I don't like corned beef, though. She doesn't have time, you know, with so many of us." His last sentence was slightly defensive sounding.

Harry only stared at him for a second before he pulled out a money bag and said, "We'll take the lot."

Anabelle briefly wondered if Harry Potter was as rich as the Fawleys.

An hour later, the three of them were digging through Harry's candy, Ron's sandwiches completely forgotten. Harry seemed to be happy to buy something for all of them, which told Anabelle two things: he was both wealthy and hadn't had many friends in his lifetime. The second one she could also identify with.

Harry was almost brand new to the magical world, so Anabelle was getting everything that she didn't know answered as well and barely having to ask any questions. Ron Weasley, being a pureblood and from England, was a gold mine of information. He talked about the Hogwarts Houses and told them the names and colors. He explained the reputations of each House - which finally led them to a discussion of "You-Know-Who."

Anabelle had heard of him before, but not to the extent they had out here. Lord Voldemort had not quite reached her part of the world. Harry, for being the person that had defeated him, seemed to know almost nothing either, so Ron was able to explain as much as Harry didn't know.

When the discussion had turned to Chocolate Frogs between the boys and Anabelle had taken to staring out the window and thinking about her sister back home, the compartment door slid open. This time it was a girl with bushy brown hair, large front teeth, and a bossy expression. She was already wearing her Hogwarts robes, and her arms were folded, giving her a slightly menacing demeanor whether she meant it or not.

"Has anyone seen a toad?" she asked, her voice commanding. "It's just that Neville's lost one."

"Already?" Ron asked incredulously.

They shook their heads at her and she ignored Ron's comment. She sighed, and then held out her hand to shake. "I'm Hermione Granger, by the way. And you all are?" She looked between the three of them expectantly, her eyes lingering on Harry Potter, perhaps speculating or already knowing his identity.

"Ron Weasley," said Ron.

"Harry Potter," said Harry.

"Are you really?" interjected Hermione after shaking both their hands. She sounded very impressed. "Goodness, I've read all about you! You're in quite a few books that I got for light reading."

"Am I?" Harry sounded dazed.

"Oh yes, if it were me I would have read everything I could!" said Hermione, sounding almost scolding. She turned to Anabelle. "And what's your name?"

"I'm Anabelle Mouri," she answered her. She held out her hand for Hermione to shake, and Hermione Granger must have been exceptionally observant, because she paused in mid-shake, staring at Anabelle's wrist.

"What's that?" she asked suddenly, her tone high pitched, pointing her finger a little abruptly.

"What?" Anabelle asked, concerned.

"Your wrist. Is that…" Hermione trailed off, staring at it, and then looked up into Anabelle's face. She watched Hermione take in her appearance – her darker skin, her non-English facial features, and a sudden light of curiosity appeared in Hermione Granger's eyes.

"That's the - the lotus flower. Are you…_Palanese?" _Hermione asked, voice suddenly much more hushed than a moment ago. At these words, Ron's eyes got very wide and moved to her wrist as well, then back up to observe Anabelle's face. Harry's face, however, held no recognition. He frowned in confusion.

"Yes," Anabelle stammered, uncomfortable as she could feel herself getting red. She hadn't expected such reception. She hadn't expected any reaction at all.

"But…goodness…what are you doing out _here_?" asked Hermione, a bit tactless in her surprise.

"You're from Pala?" Ron had found his voice, and he sounded very disconcerted. "But…"

"No, that's brilliant!" Hermione cut over him, suddenly enthusiastic. "I have so many questions!"

"You're not the only one," supplied Ron, still unsmiling as he stared at Anabelle.

"Sorry," said Harry suddenly. "But what's going on?"

They were all staring at Anabelle. Her heart was racing and she found that her palms were suddenly sweaty. She hadn't expected to be under this kind of spotlight, especially not about something as minor as her home country. Even Hermione seemed to be waiting for her to explain instead of doing it herself, which she could already guess was a big deal for a girl like Hermione.

"Well… Pala is an island," said Anabelle quietly. "In the South Pacific."

Harry was frowning. "Well then, what's the big deal?"

"It's just rather…rare for the Palanese to leave Pala," said Hermione. "They…keep to themselves mostly." She seemed to be struggling for a way to say anything objectively, and her tone was full of implications. Anabelle quickly wondered what everyone out here thought of Pala. Then she chastised herself for being foolish enough to think there wouldn't be talk or rumors.

Ron looked like he wanted to add something, but he thankfully didn't, though he was still glancing at her a bit distrustfully. Anabelle said, "Well, I had a foster family take me in here in England about two years ago."

Hermione was also too polite to ask about her real family. After their reception of Pala, Anabelle was even less willing to talk about all of that in front of them, so she was glad no one still brought it up. Hermione suddenly stood up. "Well, I better get back to looking for Neville's toad, I promised him I would help" she stated, a little regretfully. "I'll probably see you all soon. Nice to meet you all."

They all murmured, "Nice to meet you," and Hermione Granger exited the compartment, but not before her eyes lingered on the three of them one last time.

A heavy silence fell over them. Ron was still openly staring at Anabelle, which she tried her best to ignore. Finally, Harry said, "So…erm, Anabelle, what is so special about this Pala place? Just that people don't move away?"

"You're forced to stay, aren't you?" Ron burst out, seeming unable to help himself.

Anabelle laughed out loud. "Of course not!"

"Wha – " Harry began, but Ron cut him off.

"Have you heard of Quidditch, Harry?" he asked, quickly changing the subject.

Anabelle was quite an observant person, after all; so when she saw Ron Weasley give Harry Potter a small shake of his head, as if telling him he could explain more later, she began to panic. It seemed that Ron Weasley had the wrong idea about where she was from, and if he passed it on to Harry, Harry might not want to be around her either. Which could ruin everything. Bossy as Hermione was, she would rather have her explaining over Ron Weasley. She at least seemed curious rather than afraid.

She wondered again what they thought out here that made them so worried, and just how many people would share Ron's viewpoint.

She hoped it still wouldn't be too difficult to befriend Harry Potter. And it had been going so well.

After all, her sister's safety depended on it.


End file.
